


Can't Even Bleed Out Alone Anymore, SMH

by Sleepless_in_Starbucks



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Swearing, not super graphic but they are mentioned a lot, thoughts/mentions of death/dying, vigilantes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-19 11:22:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22443529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sleepless_in_Starbucks/pseuds/Sleepless_in_Starbucks
Summary: Vigilantes and cops didn’t mix. But neither did Remy’s blood with the cement beneath him, so maybe desperate times called for desperate measures.…Or no measures whatsoever. That worked too.
Relationships: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Sleep | Remy Sanders
Comments: 18
Kudos: 65





	Can't Even Bleed Out Alone Anymore, SMH

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this post: https://blurryeyesinbewilderment.tumblr.com/post/190488712389/whumpster-dumpster-character-a-tilting

Vigilante business was, in general, a pretty lawless business. That was the whole thing, in fact- no rules! No laws! Creatures of justice and the night and miscellaneous bullshit!

There were, however, a few unspoken rules of thumb. But they were simple things, things that came with the whole territory of being a vigilante. Things like ‘don’t get caught’ and ‘don’t wear bright colours’ and ‘don’t rat on other vigilantes.’ There was also, of course, the most important not-rule rule:

_ You don’t go to the fucking cops. _

Now, in Remy’s defense, he hadn’t meant to go to the cops. Really! He hadn’t! He had tried everything else!

...And in this case, everything else was ‘hope to miraculously gain the strength to move or die in this dirty, cold alleyway.’ Remy thought it was a wonderful idea, really, especially since he didn’t have any others.

He was also pretty sure he didn’t have enough blood in his body, but that was a secondary issue.

He also hadn’t technically gone to the cops!

They came to him, which really shouldn’t have surprised Remy as much as it did. It was a shady alleyway in one of the more crime-ridden parts of town. It, of all places, needed police patrols.

That didn’t stop Remy from startling when he heard footsteps at the end of the alley, slow, calculated steps clearly taken by someone who had done this walk many times before. He tried to move at first, to stand up and run, or even just move enough to hide himself, but all he succeeded in doing was sending a shockwave of pain through his entire body. He gritted out a grunt as he slumped back against the wall.

To his disappointment, the movement attracted the attention of the patrolling officer, their footsteps stopping. “Hello? Is someone down there?”

Remy bit his lip, hoping if he kept quiet the officer would pass by. It didn’t help that he recognized that voice; it belonged to one Roman Prince, a police officer Remy had come face to face with a couple of times in his work.

And by ‘couple of times’ he meant at least once a week for the last four months. Roman was a good guy, one who wanted to help as much as he could, and it lead to him taking a lot of night shifts in the worst parts of town. Which were, coincidentally, the places Remy, nighttime vigilante, ended up the most.

So they ended up talking a lot. Sometimes in battle, when Roman just  _ had _ to play the part of a hero and Remy had to save his stupid courageous ass. Sometimes after battle, to talk about how much Roman disagreed with Remy’s methods while Remy just smirked and said his methods were the reason why Roman had anyone to handcuff. Sometimes there was no battle- they were just bored, both in need of a conversation partner, and both in the same area at the same time.

Tonight, right now, though? Remy did NOT want a conversation partner. Or any partner, in fact. He needed to be alone and not worried over and definitely not helped because he was a  _ lone _ vigilante, which meant he worked alone, took care of himself alone, and dammit he was going to die alone too.

Not that he thought he was going to die!

Probably not.

Maybe.

It wasn’t entirely certain. He just needed to get some strength together, and go home, and patch up all his cuts, of which there were… more than three.

Alright so maybe the odds weren’t really stacked in his favor, but that was alright. He made the odds his bitch on the regular. If he had done it before, he could do it again!

“I’m coming down there, alright?”

Except today, apparently, since Roman was just too damn noble for his own good. Remy mentally ignored the fact that it was also just a standard part of his job.

He kept silent even as Roman came down the way, hoping that maybe if he stayed still and quiet Roman wouldn’t notice him. But despite his attempts, Roman’s flashlight still ended up in his face (blinding him and forcing his to tilt his head away), and the officer gasped as he recognized the now bloody and torn outfit. “Nightshade?”

“No, this is a hobo. Leave me alone.” Remy called back, well aware it wouldn’t work, but figured that he had nothing to lose to just try it. Given how rough his voice sounded, and the fact that halfway through his declaration he had to stop to half-cough, half-retch, however, Remy knew he was done for.

The steps, which had been a slow, measured pace, broke into a sprint, Roman quickly crossing the rest of the alley to reach Remy. The minute he got to the wounded vigilante, he fell into a crouch, placing his flashlight down so that it lit Remy up but let him use both his hands. Remy grimaced when he saw the concern in Roman’s expression. “Listen, hun, I know how this looks, but really, I’m gucci-”

“Shh.” Roman hushed gently, and Remy shut up immediately, not completely sure why. It was just something in Roman’s face, the stiff way his jaw was set as he looked Remy over more fully, taking in the extent of Remy’s injuries. Something cold and cruel that, while Remy doubted was directed at him, made Remy afraid of Roman.

Which was insane, right? Roman was a hard worker and a good fighter but, at heart, he was a goofball and a dramatic with an overactive imagination. He could be brave, and tough, and strong, but not  _ scary _ .

But then Roman’s hand was under his chin, gently pushing it up so he could better look at the blood caked on Remy’s face, and Remy felt borderline  _ terrified _ . Not because he was exposed, his mask having been lost in the fight that landed him there (Roman had had plenty of chances before to take Remy in if he wanted to and he hadn’t- what did it matter if he knew who Remy was?), but because there was something glinting in Roman’s normally soft amber eyes, something hard and angry.

Carefully, Roman wiped his thumb beside Remy’s mouth, coming away with a streak of blood from his cut lip. The motion was impossibly gentle, and Remy wouldn’t have believed it had even happened if the proof wasn’t smeared across the cop’s thumb.

Roman studied the blood for a moment, but then his gaze moved back over to Remy; not even his face or his injuries but  _ him _ , Roman looking him dead in the eye. Remy sucked in a breath through his teeth as he did, because the gaze was intense and heated and furious and Remy found he didn’t very much like being on the receiving end of it.

“Who did this to you?” Roman asked, voice low and dangerous. Remy didn’t respond at first, because that tone caught him off-guard and was doing nothing to help his already racing heart.

“Who did this to you?” Roman repeated, voice quieter but filled with even more fury.

Remy reacted that time, mostly because he felt he had to, had to answer before Roman did something unreasonable (he wasn’t sure what Roman’d do, but he figured it was best to nip the flower in the bud before anything escalated). “No one,” He started, pausing to cough roughly into his elbow, “No one important.”

“No one important?” Roman repeated, incredulously. “I’d say anyone who beat you up this bad is pretty damn important!”

“Nothing I haven’t dealt with before.” Remy said, which wasn’t a complete lie. He had dealt with all of these injuries before. Just… normally he dealt with them separately. Like, one or two at a time. “And, besides, I’m not just going to tell you and watch you run out on some sort of suicide mission to avenge me or something-”

“Have you even seen yourself, Nightshade?!” Roman snapped, and Remy flinched at the tone. Roman clearly noticed, sighing before he continued, quieter, “You appear to have at least three severe external wounds alongside a multitude of bruising that seems to be covering your entire body, and that isn’t even getting into whether or not you have broken bones or internal bleeding. I don’t think you should even be alive right now.”

“I’m resilient.” Remy told him drily. 

“You’re lucky, is what you are.” Roman corrected, frown deepening as his hand slipped from holding Remy’s chin to cupping his cheek. Remy hated it, hated how… sincere the gesture was, but that didn’t stop him from leaning into it, the cold of his environment finally beginning to seep in. Softly, Roman ran his thumb over Remy’s cheek, only inviting Remy to lean further into his hold. Were it not for the last few tendrils of his sense of will, Remy would have collapsed into it too.

“Someone hurt you with the intention to kill you.” Roman said, quietly. “And I intend to make them pay for it. But to do that, I need to know who hurt you.”

Remy looked at Roman carefully, squinting at the officer. His expression was set, fury still in his eyes but now accompanied by determination. “You’re just a civilian.”

“So are you.” Roman pointed out. “You just put on a suit.”

Remy didn’t respond to that, choosing to just keep watching Roman, not sure what exactly he was looking for. Finally, he sighed. “Uncanny.” He admitted, feeling as if he had just told his deepest secret. “I caught them on the roof of an apartment complex, trying to force their way in from the top. We fought, and… well. One of us went overboard, and for once it wasn’t me.”

Roman nodded to himself. “Uncanny.” He repeated, the fury once more flashing in his eyes, pushing out everything else. He leaned back, lost in his thoughts, his hand slipping from Remy’s cheek as he did so.

Later, Remy would be embarrassed by what he did next. But in the moment, with the adrenaline finally beginning to fade and the force of his injuries, the cold, and the loneliness hitting him, the thought of Roman leaving was completely unbearable.

So he pushed himself forward, ignoring the burning protest that immediately flared across his entire body at the sudden movement. He fell against a startled Roman and curled into him, his grip loose and weak and shaky but still enough to allow him to latch onto Roman.

“Please don’t.” Remy begged, feeling foolish but only being able to slightly care, because Roman was  _ warm _ , unfairly so, and Remy had no clue what he would do if Roman left him, left him cold and hurting in this freezing empty alley. “Please don’t go, please, please don’t, don‘t leave me, I can’t, can’t-”

Arms, suddenly, warm and strong, wrapped around Remy’s back and helped to pull him up, more properly surrounding Remy in the warmth. Tenderly, Roman moved Remy’s head to his shoulder, tucking his face against his neck.

“Shhhh.” He shushed, gently, calmly, kindly, gathering up as much of Remy as close to him as he could get. “It’s alright. I’m not going to leave you, Nightshade. You have my word.”

Remy just nodded into Roman’s shoulder, because he trusted him, really, trusted his word and trusted that he wouldn’t leave Remy. As soon as he stopped nodding, however, black spots began to crowd into his vision, swarming in from the edges as his eyelids fluttered. He was still aching all over, but now he was warm, warm and safe, and trying to keep himself conscious seemed both a useless and unnecessary use of his effort.

“Ro, I- I’m gonna-” Remy tried, at the very least not wanting to frighten Roman, make him think he had fainted or something when, really, all Remy wanted right then and there was a good, long nap.

Roman just nodded a little bit, enough that Remy could feel the vibrations, running one of his hands over Remy’s back in a soothing manner. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.” He promised, and as Remy gave up his fight with his eyelids, letting them fall completely closed, he continued, 

“I’m not going to let them hurt you again.”

And with that last promise echoing in his mind, Remy drifted off, feeling secure in the fact that, if no one else would, he knew Roman would keep his promise.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me amusing? Find me on Tumblr, too: https://sleepless-in-starbucks.tumblr.com/


End file.
